


Steve’s Adventures in Babysitting: Will

by wordscavenger



Series: Steve’s Adventures in Babysitting [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Good Babysitter Steve Harrington
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 14:36:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13572627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordscavenger/pseuds/wordscavenger
Summary: Hundreds of miles separate Steven Harrington from his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana; and that’s the way he prefers it. Against the backdrop of New York City he can spend his days buried in girls and schoolwork in a desperate attempt to move on from the craziness of the past two years, but there’s just one part of himself that he can’t leave behind.Taking care of his kids when they need him most.





	Steve’s Adventures in Babysitting: Will

**Author's Note:**

> I'm that crazy person who decides it's a good idea to start two series at the same time. Why not? 
> 
> Anyways, babysitter Steve has always stuck with me since watching ST Season 2 so I decided to have some fun with it. I am planning on having a chapter for each of the kids in the party. I hope you all enjoy!

On a Saturday in November just before Thanksgiving when the dull and dusky sky made the morning feel like night was minutes away, Steve attempted to study for the second time that day. On the scuffed and battered yard sale coffee table in front of him were a scattered arrangement of books, papers, pencils and notebooks covering the top like a rumpled tablecloth. He sat on his dusty couch that he had haggled out of the hands of the Armenian family of six who used to occupy his home; a barely bigger than a box-sized apartment located in a not so safe, but hadn’t been broken into yet part of the Meatpacking District.

He was reading from a heavy tomb that made his fingers ache, scanning the verbose strings of never-ending sentences blurred together to elaborately describe how Cold War currency devaluated the Russian economy and what that meant for post-Vietnam War America.

Riveting stuff.

As his eyes glazed over he quickly refocused and attempted to read the paragraph for the third time when his telephone suddenly began shrilling in need. He almost dropped the textbook in relief to finally have an excuse to take a much needed break from exchange rates, foreign exports, and the ever so thrilling concept of domestic industry.

With his foray into the history of finance briefly delayed, Steve rolled ungracefully off the couch and walked over to his sorry excuse for kitchen where his ancient rotary phone that also came with the apartment hung, and reached it on the fourth ring. When he lifted the receiver he expected his caller to be Becky, a svelte brunette with a face that reminded him of Venice Kong whom he had made out with in the back stacks at Bobst Library two days ago where he had been cramming for his pre-holiday break final.

Becs, as she liked being called, was also in his socioeconomic class at NYU and had casually popped over to his study carousel to ask him for help in grabbing a book from a stack she was more than capable of reaching in her four-inch pumps that added unneeded height to her already stunning 5’7 frame. His phone number had ended up in the back pocket of her tan corduroy jeans after a librarian caught them with a poorly timed interrupting cough; Steve had been stealthily working his way up the back of her buttermilk cashmere sweater, his fingers searching for the clasps of a bra he soon realized wasn’t there. When alone again, they had laughed, parted ways, and gave each other that lingering look that meant they would return to business soon enough.

She was no Nancy. Steve wasn’t fooling anyone, including himself, when he long-ago realized it would take some time yet before he could replace his gun-toting ex and fix that hole in his heart. But, no matter how many women circled the carousel of his post-Hawkins life, he would try his best to move on. It might not be healthy, but if loosing himself in his father’s demand to acquire a business degree, so help him God if he didn’t, at NYU also involved spending time with the occasional beautiful woman, then he would bear that burden the best he could.

Hawkins was long past the _Sorry to See You Leave_ sign on the road leading towards the edge of town, and short of a new apocalypse courtesy of the Upside-Down, he tried as often as he could to not think about that place.

Hawkins hadn’t forgotten about him, however. Suddenly, he was being got pulled back by the shaky, nervous young boy’s voice answering his causal, definitely sensual, “Up for another study session Becs?”

“Steve? Is that you? Do-is this the right number?”

It took Steve a moment to place the voice. Though he didn’t often like dwelling on most parts of his life back in Indiana before coming to New York, he was used to getting phone calls from the kids back home, though mostly from a manic Dustin who touched base with him almost weekly; ping-ponging between new conspiracy theories about the Upside-Down or what his opinion was on a new grooming product he wanted to use to see if it would attract the attention of Megan Houghtland, a girl in his Algebra class who was going through what his mother would have called a ‘blossoming phase’.

Less occasionally he would hear from the other five ‘party members’, as they called themselves, more often during a group call, initiated by Dustin, who would drag him into a group argument originating during a D&D session or after an outing. Steve had somehow been deemed ‘The Judge’ by the group and was tasked with very serious job of being the objective voice and final say during quarrels so they could just move on. It was not unusual for arguments to last days, even weeks, with these kids. So far he had convinced Mike to let Lucas try his hand at running a side quest campaign, suggested a new NPC to help with a difficult story-line transition, and had saved The Zoomer from being eaten alive by a Kraken.  

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to their phone calls, but it was a lie he would never admit out loud.

The voice, however, belonged to one of the quieter kids, often drowned out by Dustin’s screeching monologues or the constant bickering between Mike and Lucas, with Max throwing in her own specialized commentary when she could. Steve rarely, if ever, had even heard El-Jane, he reminded himself for the hundredth time, speak, though he knew she was with the kids and was more than capable of forming her own opinions. But sometimes, through the noise, a voice often tried to rise like a fluttering bird struggling against a torrential hurricane to be heard.

“Will?” Steve said, his voice switching from the sensual, expectant tone to a shrill panic at a level he had never heard before. “What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you okay?” He hadn’t missed the stuttered fear in the young boy’s voice and knew, as anyone would who had any idea what kind of Hell that boy had suffered through, troubled followed him like the rising sun.

“I’m in New York,” Will said with a little more gusto, obviously relieved that he had the right number. “Jonathan was supposed to pick me up but he’s not here and I don’t know what to do. Dustin gave me your number and told me to call if you anything happens and I-”

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” Steve was now simultaneously shoving his feet into his well-loved but equally well-worn Adidas kicks while also sliding on a Levi jean jacket he had bought off a fellow-classmate who was selling most of his possessions to make rent that semester.

And Jonathan was in New York? It was news to him, but considering he hadn’t spoken to anyone back home, sans the kids and his mother for his obligatory weekly check in, and she certainly wasn’t going to be privy to the Byers’ family and their business, he wasn’t all that surprised that the news had missed him.

“Grand Central,” Will said, his nerves returning again as he came back to the realization he was alone in a foreign place and trapped inside a bustling intercity terminal where the chance of something bad eventually happening to him was only one hundred percent. And Will was more than used to knowing when something bad was going to happen to him.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay? You’re at the payphones right? At the North terminal?” He went to grab his apartment keys from the bowl on the counter, but they weren’t there. Where the hell had be put them?

“Yeah. I-I think so.”

“Do you see a kiosk anywhere?”

“A kiosk?”

“A stand, like at the county fair, but you can buy newspapers and gum and stuff?” Luckily the phone’s cord was long enough that he could jump over his couch to land in front of it, then start tearing the cushion’s off like he was digging for Black Beard’s treasure and not his wayward keys. His textbook thumped uselessly onto the floor.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Go over to it. Walk around a look like you’re going to buy something. Stay near there and keep in sight of the person working it. If anyone comes up to you there don’t talk to them and don’t go with them. Just stay there. Got it?” Steve stood, his keys still unfound, and shoved his hands into his jean jacket in frustration.

His keys where in his left pocket. Of course.

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks Steve.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Steve said. “Just stay there.” He slammed the phone back into its hook and headed out the door to find Will.

* * *

 

For a few minutes Steve was worried it would actually take longer than his promised timeline to reach the historical train station. Rather than risk taking the unreliable subway, to save time he had splurged and took a cab with the money he had been saving for a possible date with Becky, and nervously counted down each intersection they had passed until finally reaching the famous 42nd street.

He was opening the yellow cab door with one hand and throwing the cash at the cab driver with the other before the south pacific looking man had even pulled over to the row of identical vehicles operating the same function, some of its passengers in just as much a hurry as Steve but for their own reasons.

“Payphones,” Steven breathed to himself as he jogged between the throngs of natives and tourists passing each other in a heard of various destinations. Steve hadn’t been to the terminal since he had arrived from Hawkins before the beginning of the school year; any memory of the station’s layout was behind a static wall of overwhelming fear and liberating freedom.

Once inside the building, his heart thudded loudly and matched the rhythm of his eyes darting in every direction as he dashed down the long marble steps that lead him to the main concourse. On the opposite wall light from the storied stained glass windows and decorative opaque ceilings shined elongated streaks of what little sun had broken through the clouds into the building, illuminating the travelers trotting off into a hundred different directions. Despite its opulence, the large structure felt more like a tomb, an open pagoda that earned its centurium plus years.

On one side he could see the ticket windows, the lines long with impatient people waiting their turn. Further down the concourse his eyes picked and assessed each space until he saw the payphones lined along the side of the back wall. Not far off from that, a few kiosks stood nearby, people milling about them casually as they shopped or killed time.

Steve dashed forward, eyes straining for a young boy with a bowl cut and an outfit that screamed forty percent mark off at the local thrift store. His feet moved in a manic dance, darting back and forth as he zig zagged through the people and luggage around the kiosk, his nerves rising as he continued to not see Will anywhere. He had half a mind to start calling the lost boy’s name, but this was not the open fields and dense forests of Hawkins, and it would draw too much notice if Will’s name was echoing off the marbled walls. Attention was not something he wanted here.

Finally, he slid to a dramatic stop as he saw two grown men a few feet away from one of the kiosk’s looking down at something Steve worriedly realized was Will height. He stepped forward and as he got closer he saw through the opening between the two men’s heads what he had feared had happened. Poor Will was standing there, back to the wall and his small hands wrapped tightly around the straps of the same patched up backpack Jonathan had used on his first day of high school. He regarded the men with large brown eyes, giving each a look that displayed a simmering mix of grim resolution but with a bit of _try your best_ , _I’ve been pushed around by worse than you_.                

Steve almost smiled at how brave Will was trying to be. Instead, he pushed himself deftly between the two men and stepped beside Will, interrupting whatever one of the men was saying.

Both were a bit older than him and were dressed as if they were waiting in line for a death metal rave. Piercings dotted their white faces, contrasting their jeans as dark as one of their leather jackets and the fake suede cowboy coat trimmed with black fringe. The one with the leather jacket had a tattoo of a spider’s web that crept up from his shoulder and spread around his neck. They shared the same look of sudden surprise at Steve’s appearance, but neither seemed too concerned by what they saw.

“There you are,” Steve said and placed his hand on the shoulder of Will’s red puffer vest, curling his fingers into a protective tight fist around the slippery nylon. “Let’s get going.”

Will’s eyes widened in relief even as Steve felt his shoulders tense nervously.

“Hey-” one of the guys began but Steve ignored him. Moving fast he tried to drag Will around one of the guys but his arm was grabbed and he was suddenly close to the leather jacket. The scent of cigarette smoke and subway fumes filled his senses.

“Just a minute, man. Who the hell are you?” His reflexes were quick. He had a fistful of Steve’s jean jacket before a moment had passed.

“I’m taking the kid home,” Steve gritted out and tried to jerk his arm free.

“You shouldn’t be letting him wander around here alone. This isn’t the most safest place in the city you know.” He smirked, like it was some kind of inside joke.

Steve finally ripped his arm away and pushed Will protectively behind him. Their backs were to the wall, the exit at the far end of the terminal, guarded by both men.

“We don’t know you,” the man continued. His friend just grinned and kept his eyes, definitely glazed by something involving white powder, trained on Will. “Maybe the kid doesn’t know you either. Maybe he’s safer coming with us.”

“Stay the hell away from him,” Steve said, his voice raising just below a shout. He pointed a finger at them. “Move. Go waste your time pissing someone else off.”

“It’s okay little man,” the man in the cowboy jacket said, his voice coming out deep and with an unsuccessful attempt at being sincere. “We’d take good care of you.” He took a step forward and Steve felt Will grab the back of his jacket in fear. He also heard a small, fearful intake of breath tumble from his otherwise silent mouth.

They were scaring him. And did that piss Steve off.

“Hey!” This time he did shout. His voice’s echo caused the man to stop advancing and regard Steve with a little more clarity. “I said stay the hell away from him. Now move, or are we going to have a problem here?”

Seeming to become excited by the challenge, the man in the leather jacket grinned and opened his mouth to respond. But before he could get a word out he was interrupted by a newcomer.

“There a problem here?” A security guard who had been hovering near the kiosks walked towards the two men, his attention alerted by the standoff evolving in the terminal’s corner.

Steve felt a little relief at his appearance, but didn’t drop his guard. He hadn’t been in New York long, but he had heard enough from fellow classmates also navigating their way through this strange city that New York cops there weren’t like Chief Hopper back home. Hopper was scary enough, but more than anything he meant well. He was going to take care of his town and its people whether they liked it or not. Cops in New York were a game of chance. No one ever really knew who to trust. And Steven wasn’t sure if he could trust this one.      

“Thanks officer,” Steve said quickly, and taking their distraction to his advantage, he grabbed Will’s shoulder again and maneuvered him around the two men, passing them by before they had realized what happened. He gave a quick nod at the cop and didn’t wait to see his response.

“Just keep moving,” Steve said quickly to Will. He could hear the leather jacketed man starting to make a loud fuss which was quickly overpowered by the annoyed officer, but ignored it and guided them through the suddenly crowded terminal. A train was approaching and people were beginning to make their way through. Steve let the crowds swallow them up.

“You got everything right?” He scanned the boy’s back pack and the small army green duffle he had slung over his free shoulder. “No other bags?”

Will shook his head, his hair swinging back and forth like a dangling vine. His eyes were wide. “No.”

He continued holding onto Will’s shoulder as they came to the marble staircase, but loosened his grip only slightly. “You okay?” Steve asked, glancing at Will before looking backwards. Through the crowd he saw the officer near the two men, speaking into the microphone at his shoulder while keeping any eye on them as they moved onto another kiosk, skulking around but keeping a small distance from the people near them. One of them had lit a cigarette, the smoke swirling around his hair like a broken halo.

Will nodded vigorously. “I didn’t talk to them. Like you said.” His voice was slightly defiant, like he was already expecting Steve to berate him for breaking his rules. “They kept following me around. They said they would give me a ride to wherever I wanted.” He lifted a hand to shield his eyes when they walked outside the large doors leading to the city, the now bright sun mixed with frigid winter air assaulting his senses. “I knew they were lying.”

“Smart kid,” Steve said and walked them towards the line of cabs waiting for their next job. He knew he could let go of Will now, but he wasn’t ready. His heart was still beating like a caged lion, the nerves and adrenaline taking their time to settle. Intrusive thoughts assaulted his mind. What if he hadn’t been home when Will called? What if the men had grabbed him?

What if? What if? What if?

He shook his head and waved down a cab. When one stopped he opened the scraped and faded yellow back door, shoved Will inside and then clambered in after him, rattling off his apartment’s address before he even sat down.

“I know were Jonathan lives,” Will said, momentarily distracted when the cabbie, this time a short Asian man with large diamond rings on each finger and a dancing hula girl on his dashboard, suddenly began beeping his car’s horn, his New Yorker way of asking for room to be made so he could slide into traffic.

Will shoved his hand into his jean’s back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper, then handed it to Steve. He jumped when the cabbie blared the horn again and then began to swear both in English and his native language.

Steve grabbed the paper with one hand then gave the plastic partition a sharp bang.

“Hey!” He yelled and waited for the surprised driver to turn to him. “Take it easy. I got a kid here. Watch your language, man.”

The cabbie tsked at him in annoyance and turned back, muttering again in what Steve now thought was Vietnamese, but he wasn’t sure. He turned to Will, still wide eyed and pale from all that had happened, slumped in his seat and breathing heavily.

Steve reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. He was about as good at being comforting as he was at reading his textbook, but Will deserved something after that ordeal.

“So. Welcome to New York, kid.”

* * *

 

“Jesus, buddy slow down. You’re going to choke,” Steve said and reached out to yank the pizza from Will’s hands as it was in motion to connect with his mouth again.

Will grunted in surprise as the slice was pulled away, a string of cheese and sauce hanging from his lips as he quickly tried to chew and swallow at the same.

“But it’s so good,” Will mumbled with his mouth full and went to pick up the slice Steve had deposited back onto his plate, but was stopped when Steve threw some napkins at his chest. He didn’t blame the kid’s gusto though, Hawkins had nothing on a slice of New York pie.

“Take a breather. That’s you’re fourth slice. Jonathan’s going to kill me if you show up with a stomach ache cause you spent all afternoon drowning in grease.”

They were at Steve’s favorite pizzeria in the city, Giovanni’s. The restaurant wasn’t so cheap that it could be called a dive, but it was affordable enough that most of the college students Steve knew could go and get a Coke and a slice and not have to call their parent’s for an increase in allowance.

Giovanni’s was decorated in a classic New York style diner. Simplistic white furniture with sharp red booths. They were in a booth alongside a series of occupied tables matching theirs as it lined a long glass window looking out onto the busy street. Every few moments something would catch Will’s eyes and he would stop and watch an unusual looking person or a car he had never seen before, then dive back into his pizza. Beside their table was a hallway that led into the restrooms and a door to, he assumed, a back office. To the left of that, more tables and more people, all sharing simple meals and private conversations.  

Another reason for stopping here was that it was also decently close to Jonathan’s apartment, also in the Meatpacking District but closer to a location Steven wouldn’t be bringing Will to if the sun had set. Will had tried calling Jonathan at Grand Central’s payphones before reaching out to Steve, but there’d been no answer.

So, until Steve knew what to do next, he had brought Will here to get some much needed food in him. Apparently, he hadn’t eaten since before he left Hawkins for his train ride, and had looked like he was being dragged back into the Upside-Down by his hair. Two slices in and he began to look and sound like the twelve year old Steve knew was in there. The magic of greasy food and adolescence had struck again.

As Will dragged the balled-up white napkins across his face Steve picked up the piece of paper with Jonathon’s New York address and phone number on it. The writing had to belong to Joyce Byers. Each word was written in a dark and flowy cursive, a world of difference from the blocky all caps alphabet he had once seen painted on the Byers family living room during Will’s first ‘ordeal’.     

“So, your brother’s in the city huh?” Steve asked, glancing up at Will to see the slice back in his mouth, but he was taking smaller, slower bites this time.

Will nodded and swallowed before he spoke. “Yep. He had like a million credits or something cause he’s so smart, so he got accepted to go to this pre-college photography program at NYU that he’s wanted to do since forever.”

Steve was impressed, he hadn’t known Jonathan was that good at his hobby. He heard the bottom of the booth being kicked as Will shifted before he continued.

“He even got to skip senior year which is something I didn’t even know you could do but Lucas said his cousin in Chicago got to skip a grade so it should make sense people can go to college early if they got enough credits. Right?” He finished his sentence with the same wide eyed look that always seemed like he was surprised by how this crazy world worked. Almost as if he hadn’t stopped getting the rug pulled out from under him, but he also couldn’t stop himself from getting back up every time.

“What about Nancy?” Immediately Steve mentally kicked himself for asking. He didn’t want to know, her life wasn’t his business anymore, but at the same time couldn’t help but wonder.

“Mike’s sister?” Will asked, cocking his head to the side. “What about her?”

Steve just shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind.” He folded the paper and slid it back towards Will. “So Jonathan was supposed to pick you up at the train station?”

“Yeah.” Will said slowly. “After his class got out this morning. We planned it all out with mom and everything. But he never showed up.” Will flopped back in his seat and the slice of pizza fell out of his hands, teetering unevenly on the paper plate. “D’you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Don’t worry about him, okay?” Steve said placatingly, even as he couldn’t help but become a little worried himself. Jonathan merely rivaled his mother’s fierce protectiveness of Will, and if he wasn’t there to pick up his brother in one of the most dangerous cities for a lost young boy to be in the country, the reasoning as to why couldn’t be pleasant.

Sliding out of the booth, Steve stood and jerked a thumb down the hallway behind him. “There’s a payphone back here. I’m going to make a few calls. See if I can track down where your brother’s gone off to.” He then pointed to Will, his voice deepening into a stern lecture that eerily reminded him of his father. “Stay here. You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t go anywhere. You need anything, you come get me, got it?”

Will slid out of the booth as well. “Well, there’s a _Dragon’s Lair_ game near the front entrance. Can I go play that?”

Steve hesitated, unsure about having Will so far away from him, but then nodded reluctantly. The diner wasn’t safest place in the city, but it sure as hell was safer than Grand Central. “Fine. But as soon as you run out of quarters you come back here.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a few bucks.

Will hesitated a moment. “I’ve got…some money. And you already paid for the pizza. And the soda. And the cab ride here.”

For the briefest of moments Steve could hear Jonathan and Joyce in Will’s voice. Charity was obviously not something he grew up accepting.  

“It’s fine,” Steve said. He grabbed Wills hand and shoved the bills into his palm. “Call it an early Christmas present. You want to have cash to have fun with Jonathan this weekend? Right?” He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to go and empty his bank account and give it all to Will. This kid was too young to be thinking of things that were too adult for him to worry about.

But, Will also had the whole obscure life experience of being dragged unwillingly into a parallel universe, so, what did Steve know?

“Thanks,” Will said haltingly, but his growing smile betrayed how excited he was. He grabbed his backpack and started heading towards the game, then stopped short and turned back to Steve with clear indignation. “Hey! What makes you think I’m going to run out of quarters?”

Steve felt an eyebrow raise heavenward and a smirk inch in up the same direction. Sometimes, it was all too incredible for him to know that Will had gone through everything that he did and still come out as normal a twelve year old boy as he was.  “Because all I hear about from Dustin is how Madmax keeps beating all of your scores back home.”

Will considered Steve’s retort and gave him a suspicious look. “Dustin talks too much.”

“Preaching to the choir, kid,” Steve said and walked over to the payphone.

Steve hadn’t been lying when he’d said he had a phone call to make. After trying Jonathan’s apartment again and receiving no answer, he resorted to plan B. It wasn’t easy to get to his source over the phone, in person was much easier and much more effective, but he would try. He leaned against the payphone’s box with one arm draped over it, his eyes glued to the small brunette in the distance bopping along with the games required movements.

“Department of Business and Economics. Becky Kindall speaking,” a voice finally clicked on the line.

“Hello, Miss Kindall,” Steve said in his most charming voice. He stood up straight and crossed his arm around his chest, tucking his hand neatly under his curved arm holding the phone. He watched as a man stopped for a moment beside Will with his wallet out and tensed, but the man then tucked some change into the black billfold and walked away.

“That can’t be Steve Harrington.” Becky’s voice changed from professional to flirtatious in the instant it took to draw a new breath. “He’s busy leaving me a voice message about when he’s going to pick me up for our date.”

“Maybe I already have,” Steve answered playfully, though he’d done no such thing. “And I’m too impatient to wait for an answer after you get out of work.” In addition to being a student, Becky was a TA in training for their Socioeconomics professor. She worked the front desk at the department chair’s office during the weekend, filing and grading papers for some extra cash. The fact that he hadn’t asked for any help in his grade after their brief meeting at the library was definitely putting him in her favor.

“I think my answer should be obvious,” she laughed, and Steve could almost see her dark hair falling over that buttermilk sweater a she toyed with the long gold necklace that hung around her soft neck.

“Okay, you got me. I need a favor,”

“Such as?” Her voice suddenly became wary, and Steve didn’t blame her.

“I’m trying to find someone named Jonathan Byers. He’s a pre-accepted student at the school in some camera camp or something for people before they go to NYU.” His thoughts flickered back to the boy across the diner. “I know him from my home town and his brother’s here. He was supposed to pick him up at Grand Central but never showed. He had class this morning so I’m wondering if that’s what’s keeping him.”

“What a good Samaritan,” she said, her voice flowing back into that calm, borderline flirtatious tone. “How old is the kid?”

“Twelve.”

“Je-zus,” she whispered. “Grand Central by himself? I’m surprised he didn’t get snatched.”

“He almost did. Which is why I need to find his brother asap.”

“Damn. Okay. Let me think for a moment.” Becky said, her voice dropping an octave conspiratorially. He waited while he listened to her shuffle through some papers and open and close a few desk drawers.

“Right. Here we go. You must be talking about Professor Constance and his Introduction to Photographics workshop.”

“Sure,” Steve said with a shrug. It was good a lead as any. “Sounds about right.”

“Well, you and the kid better find some way to pass the time. Your friend is going to be delayed for a while.”

That surprised him, and added to his worry. “Why? Did something happen?”

“Professor Constance is what some of the other teachers around here call an overpaid idiot savant. I heard from Professor Llywyen from who heard it from the secretary of Arts and Sciences that Professor Constance is having some kind of nervous breakdown. And part of his temper tantrum is that he isn’t allowing any of his students to leave the classroom.”

“Wait. What?”

“I know, right? What a weirdo. Apparently the students were supposed to hand in some work today and he was absolutely devastated by the lack of quality in each project.” Her voice lowered a bit and Steve could hear voices in the background. “He’s decided that he has failed them all and needs to start from the beginning and cover everything they’ve worked on since the beginning of the semester.”

“That’s crazy!” Steve exclaimed. He ran a hand through his dark locks. “Can-is he allowed to do that?”

“’fraid so.”

“Damn it,” Steve looked over at Will as he suddenly jerked his hands triumphantly into the air, apparently winning the level he had been playing. “Do you know when they’ll be done?”

“That’s up to God and Professor Constance. Which, according to him, is one and the same.”

Steve groaned and thumped his head against the phone box a couple of times.

“Something tells me our date is going to be postponed a bit.”

“fraid so,” Steven said. “Raincheck? I’ll make it worth the wait,” he muttered the promise quietly into the phone, but his additional message was loud and clear.

“You better, Harrington.”

“Listen, can you do me a favor? I understand if you can’t but is there any way that you can you get a message to Jonathan?”

“What kind of message?’

After he spoke he hung up the phone and then turned to look at Will, obliviously playing his game. With a sigh he placed his hands on his hips.

“Well,” he said. “Shit.”

* * *

 

Jonathan’s roommate was…not what Steve had expected.

He stood taller than Steve by at least a good foot and a half. His white hair was shockingly close to his even whiter skin wrapped around a tall, lanky man-boy body. Blue eyes the shade of the sky on a winter’s morning seemed to be the only color his body was willing to alleviate. He wore a black t-shirt that said _Black Sabbath_ in slanted lettering and denim jeans with more holes than necessary; Steve had half a mind to tell the guy to change when he saw his boxers through a hole in the crotch. He was in front of a kid for God’s sake.

The roommate, Geoff or something ridiculous like that, had been reluctant to let them into the apartment. He knew that his roommate’s brother was coming by for Thanksgiving break, but Steve hadn’t been part of the heads up. Steve knew they couldn’t stay at the pizzeria forever, and Will mentioned that Jonathan had a roommate. For half an hour they had camped out of the front door to the apartment until the unsuspecting man finally showed up.

Steve and Geoff eyed each other warily as Will looked between them, his brown eyes wide with confusion, but Steve just pushed Will further into the apartment and threw over his shoulder to the stuttering heavy metal fan, “No offense dude, but I don’t know you. And I’m not leaving until Jonathan gets here.”

He deposited Will onto the couch at the other end of the apartment in front of an old TV with broken bunny ears held together with duct tape. “Find something to watch,” he said, and looked around the small apartment. It didn’t rival his own in too many ways, besides the extra bedroom and a bigger kitchen filled with a too-bright yellow linoleum. Not spotless, but it was relatively clean for two dudes living together, and the walls were covered in a mix of musician and artist posters as some form of decoration.

Finding it satisfactorily safe for Will, he soon collapsed into the lazy-boy beside the boy who was flipping through the channels. Steve was desperately ready for a nap, but he hadn’t been lying. He didn’t know Geoff, and he wasn’t leaving Will alone.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geoff still standing in the kitchen, looking like he wanted to say something more, but instead he sighed and walked over to the fridge. He opened the door, pulled out three glass bottle cokes, and walked towards the couch.

When he plopped down beside Will he started opening the tops before handing them off. “So. What’re we watching?   

* * *

 

The door to the apartment slammed open so loud the cups in the ugly yellow cupboards rattled like an earthquake had just hit New York. Jonathan flew into the room, then slid to a stop when he saw Steve sitting on his couch. His mouth hung open in surprise, leaving room for him to continue taking in giant, gasping gulps of air that indicated he had most likely forgone any other mode of transportation other than sprinting like a marathon runner to get to his apartment as fast as he could.

“Where-?” Jonathan began, his eyes darting towards every inch of the apartment.

Steve stood and folded the newspaper Geoff had given to him after the TV had been shut off, sliding it onto the coffee table. He held his hands out placatingly before he began to speak. Jonathan looked pale and shaky, like he’d just been through the ringer and hadn’t quite come out of it yet.  

“I see you got the message. He’s okay. He’s safe.” Steve held up one hand and began touching each finger as he spoke. “So, I picked him up at Grand Central. He…he’ll tell you about that. Right now he’s asleep in your bed. Passed out about an hour ago when we were watching Jeopardy, which, can’t blame him but your TV has like five stations. He ate a shit ton of pizza about two hours ago so he should be good on that front for a while. After I put him down I checked to make sure your window was locked and your room was empty. Twice. Even under your bed and in your closet, though not too much cause, you know, weird.” He stepped forward and gently held out his hands beside Jonathan’s arms, close but not touching, when Jonathan’s breathing started to even out. “No one has come in or out of the room since I checked in on him twenty minutes ago. He’s breathing and hasn’t had a nightmare or anything. He’s acting fine. He looks fine.”

Jonathan’s shoulders sagged a bit in relief as Steve rambled. He was the only one who could know what was going through Jonathan’s mind. He understood.

When Steve finished he nodded towards the closed door. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan breathed out so quietly that Steve barely heard it, but he didn’t miss the gratitude in his eyes.

Steve nodded and watched him stride over to his bedroom door, then slowly turn the knob before opening it. When Jonathan was inside, Steve reached down onto the couch and grabbed his jean jacket, slung it over his shoulder, then walked over to the rotary phone attached to the wall beside the kitchen. He dug a few dollars out of his pocket as he picked up the receiver and placed the money on the table.

“It’s on me,” he said to Jonathan’s roommate, confusedly watching everything from the safety of the small kitchen table where he’d been reading a psychology textbook and eating cheerios out of the box.

Steve knew how this looked, overkill for the safety of a small kid he wasn’t even related to. But, it didn’t matter. 

He began dialing and wasn’t surprised that his call was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” Came the kind of answer Steve was expecting: a barely restrained greeting with a tone bordering on panic.

“Hello, Mrs. Byers,” Steve said pleasantly. “This is Steven Harrington.”

“S-Steve?” Joyce said with surprise. “Wha-uh. I wasn’t expecting-”

“I know. There was a small mix up but everything’s fine. Will is with Jonathan,” as he said the man’s name, Jonathan came out of his bedroom. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Steve using his phone, then they narrowed cautiously after Steve continued speaking.

“Speaking of who, he’s right here. And he can explain, well some of it. Will can fill in the blanks when he wakes up. So, uh, have a nice day Mrs. Byers.” He held out the phone to Jonathan, who grabbed it so quickly and awkwardly he almost dropped once he knew it was his mother on the other end.

“Hello? Mom? Mom-listen-I know-I know. It’s okay I swear Will is okay,” Jonathan said quickly, even as the confusion still resided in his eyes that roamed up and down Steve’s smiling face.

It might have been a petty move, but Jonathan did still, kind of, steal his girlfriend at one point, so, he owed him something for his troubles.

For a moment, Steve considered looking in on Will once last time, but thought better of it. Jonathan was here. His job was done.

Instead, he gave Jonathan a small wink and smile while he watched the man continue to try and placate his rambling mother, and after a small wave to the still confused roommate, Steve turned around and headed for the door.

Once he was back out onto the busy New York street, Steve slid on his beloved back Ray-Bans, shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and started heading towards the direction of his apartment.

Dusk was now officially settling over the city, and the temperature was falling lower than the amount of warmth Steve’s jean jacket was tailored to give. He didn’t mind though, Indiana winters weren’t exactly known for being balmy.

As he flagged down a passing cab he thought about his own phone call he had to make; a much more pleasant one than he had left Jonathan with. When he settled inside the moving vehicle, for a brief moment he felt it, a familiar ache in his chest that had been dodging his steps ever since he first breathed in the New York air at the beginning of his school’s semester. He had always passed it off as loneliness; unsurprising while living a city of millions where barely more than a few souls knew his name. But why was he feeling it so strongly now?

“Much traffic. Up ahead,” the cabbie said suddenly, interrupting Steve’s thoughts.

He sighed and made the decision to jump out and brave the rest of the cold trip back by subway. It wasn’t ideal with it being rush hour, but he had a hope with the holiday approaching people had already started traveling.

“Sure. Let me out here,” Steve said and shoved his hands into his jean pockets for whatever cash he had leftover. He felt something unexpected, and pulled out a few tokens from the pizza parlor he had been in with Will. The kid had given him the remaining tokens he hadn’t used from the _Dragon’s Lair_ game before they headed out to Jonathan’s apartment.

The wave of loneliness washed over him again like an oncoming tsunami with such force he had to suck in a breath. He suddenly thought of Dustin, his eyes bright and focused when he would listen to Steve relay some teenage survival advice he wouldn’t have heard elsewhere.

He thought of Mike, his reluctant smile when Steve attempted to act like some kind of a responsible adult that fooled no one, but it never stopped Lucas who would good-naturally egg Steve on, watching him dig himself even further into a hole. His mind turned to El, sometimes Jane, giggling at her friends antics, not shy but wary of every happy moment she experienced. And how bright, fiery Max would roll her eyes, fold her arms, and pretend as hard as she could she didn’t care about a damn thing anyone said, an act everyone saw through and loved her all the same for it.   

And Will. His earnest smile and open honesty as he dropped the unused coins into Steve’s hand. “Give the game a try next time you’re here,” he had said back in the diner as he slid his jacket on, ready to follow Steve to Jonathan’s apartment. Trusting him to lead him there. He suddenly realized Will would have trusted him to lead him anywhere. 

Steve looked once more at the tokens, then looked out the window of the cab, his eyes resting on the long line of buildings that made up one of the numerous streets of New York. When did everything become so blurry? When did his throat start hurting? When did his eyes…?

He closed his fist, blinked a few times and then took in a deep breath.

“Well,” he said. “Shit.”   

    


End file.
